Legend of Batman
by auzziewitch
Summary: Three years on and Gotham has resumed pre-Batman levels of chaos. Just as Bruce Wayne is willing to give up on Batman as his influence is no longer useful, he is challenged by the arrival of Catwoman and the mysterious Selina Kyle.
1. Prologue

_Hello all, I come with a new _Batman Begins/The Dark Knight _story that I hope you will enjoy. A while a go I told myself that I wouldn't have multiple stories going, but this story has been creating in my head for ages and I need to get it out. I'm not sure how I am going to go with regular updates, all I can hope for is that you shall enjoy this new story and don't get mad if three or four months go by and you hear nothing more._

_Anyway, despite all that, I hope you will enjoy._

_-xXx-_

**Title: The Legend of Batman**

**Rating: M for probable violence**

**Summary: Three years after the events of **_**The Dark Knight **_**Batman is a lost cause. Bruce Wayne, still suffering from the ordeal, has turned his attention to philanthropy but is unable to let go of the past. However his growing desire to allow Batman to gather dust is put to the test with the emergence of Catwoman and the mysterious Selina Kyle.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of **_**Batman, Batman Begins **_**or **_**The Dark Knight**_**. That right belongs to DC Comics and the wonderful people at Warner Bros.**

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**Prologue**

Night: The protection of criminals.

Criminals: Human monsters who fear no-one but Batman.

Batman: A man in disguise, fighting a rising darkness.

Darkness: Gotham

_-xXx-_

The night air was filled with smog and a gentle drizzle. Smoke billowed up from chimneys across the city as families sought protection, safety and comfort from the heat of a fire. On the street, criminals eagerly came out; trading drugs, stealing goods, and selling secrets. Only they were safe.

From a rooftop, somewhere in the re-evolved Narrow's, a Figure smiled down at the darkness below. Nothing could stop them now. Looking to the sky, the Figure imagined a masked Figure falling from the sky, falling to fight the crime. What a waste.

The few times the Figure had seen the vigilante he had been weak and just like the criminals he was fighting, fleeing from the police. The Figure could remember the days when rumours spread that Batman worked with the police. How times can change.

Batman was in the past, a fool who thought he could save a city. Well, if it hadn't been for the poster-boy of Gotham crime, the Joker, he may have succeeded.

But the Figure remembered the Joker, remembered their encounters. The Figure liked his outlook on crime and life. He knew what it was that made the human mind work, and he had known how to attack society and destroy it without claiming power for himself, and in the most minimalist of ways. The Figure admired him. And what had the Joker got for his troubles? Lifetime imprisonment in the new Arkham Asylum.

From below, a crash sounded; followed by another, bigger crash of broken glass. The Figure's Protégé still had things to learn about being silent and successful in escape.

The Figure looked back towards the centre of Gotham and smiled evilly. So much to do and so little time.

_-xXx-_

It had been easy getting in. Despite the darkness, the Protégé's eyes saw everything. Slinking along the corridors, careful to avoid the camera's, they made their way to the vault, their blood pumping with adrenaline and excitement.

A light shone ahead, but moved quickly: the security guard and his torch. When the torches beam flashed along the corridor, the owner's ears having heard the faintest noise, all that the beam fell on was air. The guard grumbled incoherently and moved off in the opposite direction, before finally turning a distant corner.

The Protégé smirked and rolled their eyes. Weren't security guards meant to hold some form of intelligence? All they had done was jump up and strategically lock themselves to the ceiling. It wasn't that difficult to do, or to see.

Jumping down silently, they continued to move along; turning down the corridor the guard had come from and immediately found the door they were looking for. Pulling out a pair of pins, the Protégé easily and silently picked the lock in the darkness before slipping into the room, leaving the door to click quietly back as it closed.

The vault stood before them. It wasn't too elaborate, in fact, as the Protégé examined it and compared it the notes in their head, the vault was more like an oversized safe. Pressing their ear to the cool metal, the Protégé slowly twisted the dial. A faint snap sounded from within.

The Protégé smiled as they pulled the door open and a small light flicked on within. There it was, twinkling in the soft purple light directly before them. The Amazon necklace, designed in 1848 by Harold d'Guille, 580 tiny crystal clear diamonds surrounding the most intricate designs of precious stones of all different colours, in particular, the Amazon Diamond, found in the headwaters of the Amazon river, and one of the most expensive diamond's on the market for it's alluring mix of green and pink. The necklace itself was invaluable, and to steal it from its owner would mark the Protégé's announcement as a serious threat.

The Protégé stared at the necklace before reaching out and lifting it from the stand it was resting on and carefully placing it in a large box. They then placed it in their backpack.

"Such a waste of beauty." The Protégé said to themselves turning to leave.

Knowing to not bother with the vault door, the Protégé was down the hall when a feeling of dread came over them.

"You there!" The voice of the guard shouted.

Cursing, the Protégé ducked into another passageway as the sound of pounding footprints approached and the Guard's voice shouted into his radio, demanding back-up. Looking ahead, all the Protégé saw was the strong glass windows of the 48th floor. Reaching into their backpack, the Protégé pulled out two small grapple guns.

They fired the first towards the glass. A small arrow at the tip of a long wire flew towards the window as the Protégé continued to run towards it, watching as the arrow pierced the glass. Building speed, the Protégé launched themselves towards the now broken window, and after feeling the initial pain of the glass against them, the feeling of weightlessness overtook them as they began to fall towards the ground below.

Looking to the sky, the Protégé fired the second grapple gun towards the tip of the building, and after what felt like an eternity, felt the wire go taut. Falling towards the building, the Protégé, once hitting the wall with a thud, pressed another button on the grapple gun and began to rocket skywards.

At the rooftop, the Protégé pulled themselves over the small ledge and landed, with slightly wobbly legs against the hard surface.

Before them, the Figure turned to face its Protégé. "How many?" They asked.

"One guard, more are coming." The Protégé responded.

The Figure nodded. "Did you get it?" They stepped forward, picked up their supplies from the wall, and began to reel in the second grapple gun.

"Yes." The Protégé answered, a flood of pride filling them. Their first actual try and they had been successful.

"Well let's go." The Figure turned, and fired the reeled in grapple gun towards a distant building, before dropping it, running in the opposite direction and jumping off of the roof.

The Protégé followed and the two Figures disappeared into the darkness.

_-xXx-_

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	2. Life Goes On

_So this comes a lot sooner than I intended, probably because I'm brilliant. (yeah, sure because that's true.) Any way, given I have no school at the moment the first couple of updates should be fine, but after that things shall probably get a little tricky. _

_So after my mini-ramble, on with the update!_

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**Life Goes On**

Daylight: Safety for civilians.

Civilians: Helpless and untrained habitants of Gotham.

Gotham: Always unsafe.

_-xXx-_

A man stared at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. Ever since he started gaining prominence in the Gotham Police Department, he had wondered what it was that his wife saw in him as being handsome. His eyes always had a sunken in look and his skin had started resembling the vampires in his son's comic books.

But now, as the Commissioner, Jim Gordon looked like a mess. The skin around his eyes was almost constantly red and puffy from the lack of sleep, and his eyes were dull and lifeless; the spark and shine that they had had when he was young was gone. And to top it off, he couldn't remember the last time he had had time in the morning to shave.

Leaving the bathroom, Gordon walked into the kitchen where Barbara was preparing breakfast for the family. For a moment, thinking that he would have time to sit down and relax, he was cruelly reminded of his job requirements when his cell began its shrill ringing.

If Jim Gordon ever found the bright spark that first thought of and invented the cell phone, he would kill them.

"We have a situation at 425, 34th Street." The voice of Felix Rudd sounded.

Gordon sighed. Surely his job as Commissioner required him to be in an office somewhere, signing papers and only coming on to the street for formal events.

"Alright, I'll be there in 20 minutes." Hanging up the phone, Jim grabbed a piece of toast from the table.

Barbara smiled at him sadly. "He'll understand." She turned away and continued setting up breakfast as the sound of their children sounded coming down the stairs.

Gordon sighed and turned away out the door. He had promised he would take Jimmy to his soccer game that morning. Once again, another broken promise.

_-xXx-_

From street level, 425 34th Street was just like any other building, apart from the fact that there were police cars at either end of the block, preventing traffic from flowing and pedestrians from coming to see what all the fuss was about, the Detectives asking questions, sketch artists, CSI's and various other agents of the Police force.

As he got out of his car, Gordon was approached by two people, one was Lieutenant Rudd, the new head of the Major Crimes Unit, and the other was Elizabeth Montgomery, an agent from the FBI.

"This had better be good." Gordon said to himself as he watched the two people approach him.

Both greeted him with either 'morning sir' or 'commissioner'. Three years later, and they still hadn't caught the elusive Batman, the FBI and the Gotham Police Department did not get on that well, especially with their suspicions that he was protecting the vigilante.

Before asking anything or getting him up to date, Rudd handed Gordon a steaming Styrofoam cup.

"Thank you Felix." Gordon smiled, taking a mouthful. "So what have we got here?" He asked.

"Last night at about 2am a masked figure broke in and stole a necklace from the Haliday residence." Rudd spoke, opening up his notebook.

"You called me here about a necklace?" Gordon was surprisingly tempted to wring Felix's neck.

"When the necklace has been valued as being in excess of 4 million dollars, then yeah, we'll call you." Montgomery spoke, handing him a file.

"The Amazon necklace?" Gordon asked confused.

"The price of the actual necklace is unknown, but it's the Amazon Diamond that is the factor." Rudd spoke. "Found in Peru, the diamond is apparently worth at least 3 million dollars, and it was turned into a Necklace for Duchess Eliza Haliday in 1848 shortly after it was discovered. It's been in the family ever since." Felix spoke from his notebook.

"And I'm assuming that it isn't just an overpriced rock that is the reason for the FBI's interest?" Gordon asked, turning to the black haired agent.

"No it's not. The reason for our interest is that the type of burglary matches the MO for a number of other jewellery heists in Europe." She handed him another file which Gordon dully accepted. "From the Crown Jewels in London to the Suisse Sapphire in Prague, and an original Cartier bracelet in Paris, they are all similar. The thefts are of original and un-replicated products owned privately that have not been seen in public for years, items on display in museums, or just plain expensive. To top it off, most of the owners have got mass collections of jewellery, frequently at similar prices to the items stolen, but the thief only takes the one item." She spoke as they began to move towards the building.

"The Cat?" Gordon looked up and asked.

"One of her many aliases. She first came under our noses about 20 years ago, when she stole a Harry Winston ring that was worth at the time, $800,000, but she hasn't been seen for the past two years. We and various other agencies were attempting to keep track of her, but she's slippery. She knows how to escape."

"And now she's in Gotham." Gordon sighed, feeling the headache he usually got whenever a major new crime player emerged.

"Yes. Except the thing is, she slipped up this time." Montgomery spoke, turning and looking up at the building.

"How?" Gordon asked, following her gaze.

"Normally she leaves a calling card, something like 'meow' or a cat drawn on a wall or mirror in lipstick, along with the missing piece of jewellery the owners don't discover until the following morning. This time, nothing, and she was seen by a security guard." She explained, skipping pages in the file to photos of calling cards.

"So what are you thinking?" Rudd spoke, having been taking notes as she was speaking.

"An accomplice. When The Cat first came up, it was estimated that she was about 36. That would make her now 56 years old. Nothing would surprise me if she's found another woman with a similar love of precious stones to carry on her legacy." She finished.

"Any ideas?" Gordon asked, already dreading the answer to be vague.

"What woman doesn't love diamonds?" Montgomery shrugged.

Gordon sighed again. It was going to be another long day.

_-xXx-_

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	3. Normal

_Hello again, and may I say, I feel like a tool. The first three chapters, (yes this is chapter 2 but including the prologue it's chapter 3) I thought I had already posted. Then I checked and I realized I hadn't posted this. So now I'm hitting my head on my desk._

_So now, after that ramble, I hope you enjoy this (delayed) update._

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**Chapter Two: Normal**

Wayne: Gotham's Royal Family.

Bruce: The King of Gotham.

Gotham: Lonely

_-xXx-_

Someday, Bruce would return to the Palace. But for the time being, Wayne Manor was the only home he had where he could maintain some aspect of living a life he wished he had. Being at the rebuilt home of his family therefore only served to upset him.

He always thought of her, always thought how he should have realized, how he could have saved her. He always thought about the life she would be living now, about the life _they _would be living. But she was gone.

In three years, he had lost track of the amount of times he had been to the cemetery, seen her grave. It was all too much knowing she was only six feet away from him, but at the same time, knowing that she was nothing more than pieces of a human body.

He always remembered the feeling he had when the paramedics had removed her body from that warehouse; what was left. It wasn't human, it wasn't her, and yet it was. The DNA test they performed proved that it was.

But she was gone, and now he was lying in his bed in the penthouse with Miranda, or was it Miriam? He couldn't remember, which was sad given they had been seeing each other for about three months.

She sighed beside him and rolled over onto her back, her head rolling to face him. Seeing her face, he sat up and removed himself from the sheets, slinking into his robe and walking out of the room.

Downstairs he found Alfred setting the table for breakfast. As usual, the ailing butler was humming some awful show-tune. What was it this morning, Modern Major General? Bruce hated the fact that he knew.

"Ah, Good morning, Sir." Alfred's cheery morning voice spoke when he turned around and saw Bruce descending the final stairs. "How is Miss Watson this morning?" He asked, placing a fork down and moving to a nearby bench which had the breakfast items ready to be consumed.

"Still asleep." Bruce sighed, sitting down at one of the chairs watching whilst Alfred organized the food. "You know, you really don't have to do this." Bruce spoke quietly.

Ever since Rachel's death, the relationship between Master and Servant had been awkward. Bruce didn't have as much to talk with him about anymore now that Batman was almost useless. And to top it off, since Bruce decided to get himself a 'proper' girlfriend in Miranda or Miriam; whatever her name was – he just called her 'M' – Alfred had been on his back about how he treated her.

"But it is my job. Despite the fact you are an adult male, and perfectly capable of looking after yourself, I must still ensure that you are safe, looked after, comfortable and healthy." Alfred spoke in his usual crisp tones.

"I'm just saying you don't _always _have to do it." Bruce countered. "Especially Breakfast."

Alfred chuckled, and as he was finished organizing everything, he left Bruce alone. "One thing, Master Wayne." Alfred spoke from the doorway of the kitchen. "You need to be at the library in half an hour."

Bruce groaned. He had to go back upstairs. Why couldn't he be like a normal guy and date a girl who had some substance to her? Standing up, with a piece of toast and a mouth full of orange juice in his mouth, Bruce returned upstairs.

_-xXx-_

Try as he might, Bruce could not for the life of him remember what the hell he was doing at the library. He had some vague idea that it was donating money to assist the Gotham Community Library purchase a collection of law books to improve the surprising minimal collection.

But unsurprisingly, he got through the ceremony okay. Smiled at the necessary moments, spoke with the necessary people, and had his photo taken at the necessary time. But once in the car returning home, he couldn't help but groan loudly.

The Dawes Law Collection, that's what they were doing. Gathering a collection of articles and books and creating a database, all in the name of Rachel Dawes. Here he was, groaning that his life was useless without her, and complaining that he would never move on, when he was doing everything in his power to ensure it. God he was a fool.

As he drove through the streets of Gotham (one thing he had insisted on was that Alfred only drive him when he requested, which was steadily becoming a thing of the past) he made a point of just driving. He couldn't return to the penthouse as Miriam/Miranda was likely still going to be there, and Wayne Manor was too big and empty. Plus he needed something to do.

At a set of traffic lights, Bruce's eyes latched onto the bounce of a brunette on the sidewalk. As so often happened, he felt his heart speed up, only for the woman to turn around and be fifty-ish, and leaving his heart deflated. But this time, when she turned it was the woman he hoped it to be. Ignoring the horns of the cars behind him, he jumped out of his car and began to run towards her, however as he did so, she turned around and stared at him. As he had initially expected, 50, and with far too much botox.

Freezing where he was, and once again feeling foolish, Bruce turned around and returned to his car, ignoring the lights and speeding off.

_-xXx-_

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	4. Learning

_Hello all, just another apology for the delayed last update. This chapter is the one I was going to post the other day, but needed a little editing. So here it is, all for your enjoyment. Oh, and I'm sorry it's short.  
_

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**Chapter Three: Learning**

Time: Change

Change: For the better, or worse?

Identification: The Heart.

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_Three Years Ago…_

A swinging double door burst open and a group of people raced down a long hallway with a gurney and a seeming lifeless body.

"Pulse is weak." A medic shouted.

"No optical response." Another spoke, flashing a small torch-light into the body's eyes.

"Is she going to be okay?" A woman asked; her face pale and her heart racing.

"What happened?" A doctor asked her, pulling her aside and away from the speeding gurney as it and the remaining group of doctors and medics sped through another door.

"I was away for the weekend, and when I came home the house was gone. I don't know how she survived." The woman said, still panicked.

"Your sister has suffered a great deal. We shall endeavor to help her, but I do warn you, judging the extent of her injuries, I do advise that you prepare yourself." He said, before racing after the disappeared gurney.

The woman watched him disappear, her panic remaining intact, if worsening from his words. However, once he had disappeared through the doors, and the woman found that she was alone in the hallway, all pretense of panic fled, leaving a calm woman with a dark expression in her eye.

Turning around, she strode to the nearest phone. Dialing a memorized number, the phone only rang once.

"Did they believe you?" A voice asked.

"Yes." She responded.

"Good. Come home." His voice was followed with a click and a dial tone.

The woman looked in both directions along the hallway, before striding out.

_-xXx-_

"I don't see why we're trying to keep her alive." She asked a man shrouded in darkness. "She survives an explosion and is in appalling condition, and three days later she is checked into an English hospital. We'll be lucky if she survives." The woman was upset.

This had been their plan a total of 1 week – if that – and already she was finding flaws in it. And they were supposedly the intelligent ones. Would have been better if she had just put a bullet in her brain, at least, whatever was left of it.

The man chuckled at her words, and evidently, also at her thoughts. "I wouldn't have chosen this hospital if I didn't think they would look after her." She only made out the glint of his eyes and the shimmer of his teeth as he spoke.

"Yeah well, I still think it's a stupid plan." She retorted.

"Well, no matter what happens, Miss Dawes is dead." He stood up. The only way she knew he had was by hearing the scrape of his chair. "Be good you remember that." His voice was a warning, and the woman recognized her dismissal.

_-xXx-_

_Present…_

"You were lazy and ignorant. The point of the operation is to be stealth. No one hears you, no one sees you, and no one chases you. The FBI is now involved in this, and do you know what that means, Miss Kyle?" A woman spoke whilst pacing the floor.

Selina Kyle however was not listening. For two and a half years all she had heard from Cat was you must be silent and you must be invisible in order to succeed. Well, on her first outing she had managed to succeed and she had still been seen.

This was all a waste of time really, and what was the point of listening to someone preach again and again and again that to succeed you needed to be silent. Well poo to that.

"Miss Kyle?" Cat's voice sounded through Selina's thoughts, forcing her to look up from her nails at the woman before her.

"What?" Selina asked coolly. She was sick of being treated like a child.

"It would do you good to remember that whilst you may have succeeded once, there are no guarantees that you will succeed next time. This time, there was only one guard. Next time, there might be ten and all much better trained than a timid little rent-a-cop. Silence and Invisibility are the only things that will protect you against them." Cat spoke, sitting down on a chair with its back to her front.

Selina rolled her eyes. This would never stop.

"You may think this is nothing, and that I am repeating myself, _again_, but our employer will not take kindly to your antics. You are young, agile and capable; you proved that you _can_ succeed last night. But if you carry again in such fashion, you will be left for the wolves."

At this Selina looked up to her mentor. She may not be the genius that her mentor was but she knew what she was being told. She knew she had to pull her act together, because for her to be in the FBI's hands would mean that her plans to kill Batman would become fruitless.

_-xXx-_

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	5. Children

_Hello all, sorry it's taken me so long. I've come to a place where I want things to have some realistic element to them, and in order to do that, I need to spend a lot of time reading everything and making sure it all makes sense. So, updates shall come, but at what frequency I don't know. Doesn't help when my university has taken to canceling a lot of my subjects without telling me, so that's been on my mind a lot, but hey, this isn't the place for rambling. So I'm going to shut-up now and let you enjoy the story._

_-xXx-_

**Chapter Four: Children**

Child: Product of two people to further humanity.

Child: A person being taught new things to endure life.

Life: The Greatest creator and destroyer.

_-xXx-_

Jim Gordon's headache hadn't dissipated. In fact it had become much worse.

The last time he had felt one this bad was when Harvey Dent was missing. Except this one was also bordering on the problem that was the surprising lack of information about The Cat. Whilst enough was known about her to tell her MO, not enough was known about _her_.

It was like she appeared twenty years ago, but was nothing. She knew how to escape like she had never even been there. She knew how to by-pass security systems that weren't designed to be by-passed. She knew everything!

This was a woman who broke into the Tower of London, just to wear the Crown Jewels. She left Polaroid's everywhere of her with the scepter's, the crowns, the necklaces and everything in between.

She stole diamonds and jewels, then either returned them to the people she stole them from, or found a buyer. It was like a game to her. Within 48 hours of the burglary, the stolen object was either returned, or various agencies had heard word of a pending sale.

Well it had now been 55 hours and the Haliday family had not seen or heard a thing. Nor had any intel come in of a sale. So now, the only question left to ask, was after twenty years, what had changed for The Cat?

_-xXx-_

"What are we waiting for?" Selina was growing impatient.

There was only so much one could see and do on the roof of a building. And after a while, Gotham resembled nothing more than a city at night; a dirty city. Every chimney in the area was billowing up brown soot and smoke. Just the smell of everything was making her nauseous. Inside buildings, now that was where she was supposed to be.

"Patience, Miss Kyle." Cat spoke, her temper showing small sparks.

Selina glanced at her mentor and groaned, looking at her nails. This was useless. All she had wanted to do since they arrived in Gotham was learn more. She wanted to learn more about stealing, about fighting people. She wanted to learn about how she could learn about Batman.

The sound of the door banging open broke through her reverie. Both women straightened as three men walked through the door towards them.

"About time." Selina muttered to herself.

"Ladies, forgive us." The man in the middle, who appeared to be the leader, spoke. "We had a small problem to deal with." He continued in his thick Eastern European accent as they came to a stop.

"No problem." Cat spoke, removing her backpack and handing it too him.

"I take you had a small amount of trouble acquiring the merchandise?" He spoke, opening the backpack and pulling out a box, leaving the bag to fall to the floor.

"A little, nothing I couldn't handle." Selina spoke, earning a hard glare from Cat.

"In this business, a little problem can mean failure." He spoke, his accent thick with warning.

Selina ignored him. A little problem can cause a plan to fail? Please. It's only if you deal with that problem badly that it becomes a failure. She escaped, had the police and FBI asking questions that were 180 degrees from the truth, and knew she was better than these people were giving her credit for.

"It would be wise for you to listen to our client, Miss Kyle." Cat spoke, noting the blankness in her protégé's eyes.

Selina grumbled in response.

"Children," the man spoke happily. "Sometimes the only way for them to learn is throw them to the sharks." He chuckled, his face sparkling as light caught the diamond now in his hands.

"Mr. Abromavitch, the sharks would teach her, but it is a risk you should know our employer cannot take." Cat's voice was a warning and it caught Selina's interest. Why would it be bad for the authorities to know her? Was it because the 'famous' Cat didn't want someone else to be hired to do the same job she could?

Abromavitch looked up at Cat and nodded his head in agreement. "Forgive me. Next time you have a Child that needs to be taught, send them to me. I teach them for bargain price."

Cat laughed a shallow sounding laugh, before smiling at the man before her. "Children become thugs when thrown to the sharks." She spoke very coolly.

Abromavitch's smile waned and his eyes became hostile. But he said nothing, instead he merely stared at Cat, his eyes and stance meaning to threaten, but did nothing in the least to influence Cat.

"I trust you are satisfied with the merchandise?" Cat asked finally. She had only crossed paths with Abromavitch on a few occasions prior to the current time, and each time he had in some way attempted to run off with the goods and cash. The only difference now, was that they were both working for the same person.

Abromavitch shrugged. "It is not for me to be satisfied. If it were, you would have known by now." He glanced up at her, reminding her of their past dealings. "However, I believe everything to be satisfactory, and if it is not, you shall know." He turned to one of his followers who threw a backpack at Cat, who easily caught it.

"This everything?" She asked, feeling the weight of the bag, but not opening it.

"If he told you how much he would pay, then it shall all be there. You know he is a man of his word." Abromavitch was in the process of leaving when Cat spoke, and responded over his shoulder.

Cat sighed. "That's the problem with men like him, much easier to be complacent." Abromavitch and his followers did not hear her, but Selina did, and once the door to the roof slammed behind the three men, she turned to her mentor.

"What does that mean?" She asked. "What did all of that mean, 'your employer can't risk me going solo'?"

Cat paused and looked to her charge. "To the first, a man who is always honest, never trust, for if he tells you the truth at all times, you come to trust him, so when he lies, it hurts more than you ever imagined." She explained. "But to the second;" she paused, thinking; "you'll have to ask him yourself." Was all she could say, it was all she knew.

Selina did not like the sound of that response, but could do nothing about it as Cat swung the backpack onto her back, ran at the edge and disappeared. Sighing, she waited a few moments before following.

Neither woman noticed the black shadow pass over them, nor felt its gaze lock onto them, with a purpose to destroy them.

_-xXx-_

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	6. Observing

_Hello, sorry about the delay. My other life away from my computer has been rather demanding recently, a lot to do, and sleep is an unfortunate necessity that has been equally demanding…mmm sleep…..okay back to reality now. Enjoy this update!_

_-xXx-_

**Chapter Five – Observing**

Watching: Protecting from afar

Discovery: Learning a fact previously unknown

Death: Final and absolute.

_-xXx-_

Bruce remembered reading a story when he was a child; it was about how a poor boy was unhappy and sad, but he worked hard and one day he became wealthy and he was happy. Bruce couldn't remember the name of the story, but he always found it odd. Bruce had never known what it was to be poor; well those seven years he spent traveling the world was an exception. What he did know, was that having money did not in any way guarantee happiness.

Being number 7 on the international wealthy list made him certain that he had money; donating $100,000 to a hospital was pocket change; buying a new car every week was a trifle expense, but these in no way made him happy. The only thing Bruce could remember had ever made him happy was the love of his parents, soaring through the sky over the top of Gotham as Batman, the warmth, kindness and affection he had received from Rachel. Even her anger and bitter animosity towards him had made him happy.

Well obviously it hadn't at the time, but thinking back on it, every single interaction he had ever had with her made him happy.

But now, Bruce was like that little boy in the story, except he was not poor. He was unhappy and sad. His life meant nothing without Batman or Rachel. Rachel, he knew there was no way to atone, there was no way to revive. Rachel he was moving on from. It was still taking a while, but it was happening. 'M' was not the reason, in fact she didn't help at all, but just the time – three years – was enough.

But in his spare time, on the nights where he was not prior booked to attend some function or other – he used to just leave early, but having an addition to his arm made it difficult– he would suit up and fly over-head of Gotham, making sure crime was under control. If he saw a woman having her purse stolen, he would land behind her, and those petty men who sought to steal a handbag were rather easily scared. If he observed crime at a level more familiar to hi m – organized – then he would gather what ever information he could – those guys just laughed at him – and send it off to Gordon, anonymously of course.

It was one of these nights, when sitting alone in either the manor or his penthouse was just not an option, where he found himself soaring over Gotham, making use of a new device he had recently acquired – a laser mike. It made surfing the police radio look like child's play.

As he soared above what had once been the slums of Gotham – the Narrow's, he caught sound of a conversation that immediately sent a tingling feeling up his spine. Swinging around he landed on nearby rooftop and sent his mike in the direction of the roof-top the voices were coming from.

All he could see was shadows moving, and pointing the mike to the middle of the group he realized that he was at the end of a deal.

"If he told you how much he would pay, then it shall all be there. You know he is a man of his word." A heavy Eastern-European accented male voice spoke.

Bruce immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Sergei Abromavitch, one of the men who had taken control of the underbelly of Gotham after Sal Maroni was killed and his associates arrested. But the woman's voice, the crisp English accent with some French undertones was completely new. As Bruce remembered the information of the new player in Gotham, he realized that this 'the Cat' must have been the woman talking.

"What does that mean?" A new voice, a voice which made his eyes bulge and made his stomach start a ride on a rollercoaster, sounded through the mike.

Of all the gadgets and tools he had, why did he _not _have binoculars? There was no way it was her, no way at all. She was blown up, she was dead, they found remains and they were hers, Rachel Dawes was dead.

"What did all of that mean; your employer can't risk me going solo?" She spoke again.

No, that was definitely her. It had some English influence in it, making her sound like the actors from the fifties. Bruce found himself tearing his helmet off so he could see her better, but in that time, the Cat ha responded to her question, and the two women had jumped off the opposite side of the building and disappeared. Throwing his helmet back on he made to chase them, but quickly found that they had disappeared.

Coming to a stop at another building he sat down and realized that there was no way it was possibly Rachel. It had been a dream, a willful dream, projecting the voice of the woman he most wanted to return onto another who sounded similar.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was, but that something had changed.

"She's being held against her will." He spoke to himself, looking in the direction he imagined the women had disappeared.

He felt something burn inside him. Since Bruce had given up his life as Batman, he knew that there was a fight he still needed to take part in. Batman was still needed, and now he was being called on.

Knowing he had information that would likely assist the police – for some reason they always looked in the wrong direction – he turned in the opposite direction and headed for the police precinct.

_-xXx-_

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